


Fantaisie

by komorebirei, mireille (komorebirei)



Series: Rêveries, Passions (Music AU) [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Is A Flirt, Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Happy Ending, Identity Complications, Jazz Club AU, Ladybug Goes By Coccinelle, Marichat-Vibe Adrienette, Music AU, Music school AU, Mutual Pining, Non-magic, Not a Your Lie In April / Shigatsu Wa Kimi No Uso Crossover, Romance, University Aged Characters, no kwamis, partial reveal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21791116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/komorebirei/pseuds/komorebirei, https://archiveofourown.org/users/komorebirei/pseuds/mireille
Summary: Practice rooms, puns, heart-to-hearts, revelations, realizations, and just fooling around... everything important that happens on the sidelines.A collection of related, non-chronological, self-contained drabbles within the Rêveries, Passions (Broken Fugue) Music School / Jazz Club AU. Release of these chapters will relate to the progression of the Broken Fugue storyline, to enhance and develop the background and character dynamics. These chapters will be overall more fluffy than Broken Fugue. I'd recommend reading them together, but they will make sense read separately, too.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: Rêveries, Passions (Music AU) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1569808
Comments: 40
Kudos: 52





	1. It's Official

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my "drabble" dump for all the backstory / sidestory / extended-cast drabbles I write for the Rêveries, Passions / Broken Fugue AU. Broken Fugue will make sense without reading any of these, but since a lot of character and relationship development is going to end up happening here, reading these will make the story better, in my opinion. I will always put notes in the foreword about when things happen, and the release of these chapters and events may often be related to whatever just happened, or whatever's coming next in Broken Fugue.
> 
> [Broken Fugue (Main Story)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21782932/chapters/51976702)  
> [Solfège (Non-Chronological Pilot Drabbles)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20121214/chapters/47666317)
> 
> \--
> 
> The first chapter happens in September, close to the beginning of the school year when Adrien and Marinette first meet. The nickname "Macaron Girl" is from [this drabble](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20121214/chapters/48502946).

Marinette picks up her pencil to scribble in a bowing notation when a sharp rap cuts the relative silence of the room. So she hadn’t imagined the knock when she heard it the first time, in the middle of playing.

“Just a moment,” she calls out, setting her violin on the piano bench, a little miffed.

Practice rooms are supposed to be sacred, like personal sanctuaries— _no one_ interrupts practice sessions. It’s an unspoken rule. But at the same time, she’s at her wit’s end with the challenging passage she’s been working on, and thankful for an excuse to take a break.

She twists the doorknob.

“Sorry to interrupt, Macaron Girl,” the young man announces as soon as the door opens. It’s the pianist from chamber orchestra—Adrien. “Just wanted to say hi.”

Marinette quirks a brow. “You knew it was me?”

“I know your playing.” Adrien leans against the doorframe with a smirk, shaking a curtain of flaxen locks from his eyes.

Marinette’s cheeks heat uncomfortably. Today’s practice session has been rough so far. “Sorry for your ears,” she mumbles, feeling exposed and ashamed.

“Oh, please,” Adrien scoffs. “You sounded great, as always. But could I offer some advice?”

“Sure…” 

“Maybe it would help you to think more like a pianist?”

Marinette blinks. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re basically playing broken chords,” Adrien explains. “I mean, you know that already, from an intellectual standpoint, but you need to _feel it_ too. You need to have the whole chord in your mind when you play. If you think in terms of chords, it’ll help with intonation.”

“Okay…” Marinette nods dubiously, trying to shrug off the slight irritation at having her intonation called out. She thinks her sense of intonation is just fine. It’s not like she can’t _tell_ when she’s sharp or flat.

“Mind if I come in, Macaron Girl?” Adrien invites himself.

“Sure…” Marinette moves aside to let him fully into the room. She really has no right to be annoyed by this invasion of her privacy. This is a role-reversal, in fact—usually _she’s_ the one infringing on _his_ practice time, though not in a practice room. Noticing that Adrien is always half-an-hour early to chamber orchestra rehearsal, she’s taken to coming early herself to play through the pieces with him and work on syncing up the tricky passages. “I hope you didn’t forget my name already, by the way.”

“Don’t worry, Marinette, I could never forget your name.” Adrien grins at her with an attitude of carefree nonchalance. “I just like calling you Macaron Girl. Don’t you think it sounds like a superhero name?”

“Pretty lame name for a superhero, if you ask me. What kind of powers would she have?”

“The power to improve someone’s mood tenfold by giving them a macaron.” He gives her a sweet smile that sweeps away the last dregs of her irritation. “I can attest to the fact that it really works.”

Marinette fights a blush at his unexpectedly sincere words. “I’m… glad you don’t find me annoying?” she responds with sheepish modesty.

“As I keep telling you, I’m delighted to be able to help.” He winks and points at her iPad. “Mind if I take this?”

She shakes her head.

He moves her iPad, which has the music displayed, to the piano so he can see the notes. “Okay, play it again.”

Peering at the music over his shoulder, she starts, hesitantly at first to see what he’s going to do. As she runs through the arpeggiated sixteenth notes, he plays the underlying chords, drawing her attention to the way each melodic note locks in. Instead of focusing on her fingering and hitting each individual note clearly, she feels as though her understanding of the music has broadened—now, she hears how her notes are supposed to weave into the overall fabric of the music.

After a few lines, he stops and asks, “How was that?”

“That helped, actually,” Marinette replies. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t thinking about it in terms of chords.”

“I know,” Adrien laughs, “you were too busy trying to play the notes. Totally understandable. Ah, but I’m sorry for forcing this on you. It was probably really annoying of me.”

Even though he interrupted her, stepped into her practice room and corrected her, a combination that _would_ usually annoy Marinette to no end, Adrien’s demeanor is so pleasant and unassuming that she realizes she doesn’t mind. “Nah, it’s okay. I appreciate it.”

Adrien grins. “Sometimes it can help to be friends with a pianist. We make good sidekicks.”

Marinette nudges him. “Sidekick? Don’t put yourself down.”

“Hey, can I give you my number?”

Marinette blinks. The question came out of the blue. “Sure?” she answers, taking her phone from the music stand, not sure of his intentions.

As Adrien dictates his number, she types it in and hits the call button. A buzz sounds against fabric, and he extracts his phone from his pocket, lifting it to show her number on the screen. “It’s official!” He grins widely, showing his dimples. “We’re friends!”

His smile is infectious.

“If you ever need a pianist, I’m your guy,” he vows with a wink, “so any time you want to work on one of your solo pieces again... or even études... just give me a call.”

“Any time, huh? You know these practice rooms are open twenty-four-seven.”

“I do treasure my beauty sleep, but for you…” He heaves a long-suffering sigh. “I may be willing to sacrifice. Such is the cost of friendship.”

“I see you take the bond of friendship very seriously,” Marinette remarks wryly. What a silver tongue he has. She makes a mental note to be careful with this one.

“I do. And now… I’ll let you be. I really just wanted to say hi, and thought you might appreciate the tip since you’re always working so hard. Pardon me for the interruption!” Giving a little dramatic flourish and bow, he slips out the door and shuts it with a click.

The room feels very quiet after his departure, and Marinette stands watching the door for a few moments, very aware of the tingling in her chest.

She already knew she liked him as a person, and of course he’s objectively cute, but it’s only now hitting her how much trouble she’s getting herself into.

She has his number… and they’re friends, whatever that might mean to him…

Marinette tries to move on with her life and _not_ obsess about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's how they "officially" became friends. :P What did you think? Let me know your thoughts!


	2. Umbrella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel is a jerk; Adrien tries to make up for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This happens a few days after the previous chapter. They see one another twice a week for orchestra rehearsals, but it's only their second time meeting outside of that context. A bit more of the how-they-became-friends backstory, featuring... dun dun dun... the umbrella. And bad jokes.

“I still don’t hear any emotion. You're just running through the notes, but there's no movement. Try again.” 

That makes the fifth false start. Marinette grits her teeth, setting her bow to the strings, and tries again.

Before the end of the second phrase, Gabriel holds out a hand, gesturing for Marinette to stop playing. The thin line of his mouth is pulled down at the corners in a grimace of distaste.

“Sit down, Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

The words feel like ice dropping into her belly. This is it—the opportunity is over.

Marinette takes her seat in the first row of the intimate performance hall where the master class is taking place. She tries to keep her dignity—posture straight, face neutral—but she can feel the prickle of eyes following her, and minds judging her.

“I can’t fault you on your technique, but I wouldn’t pay a cent to hear you play when you don’t have a story to tell.”

Gabriel’s words strike home. Expressing through her music is a battle she fights every day, but hearing it from him, her role model, hurts more than her self-flagellation. She wants to scream with frustration, but she forces herself to smile demurely and nod in acceptance of his critique.

She wishes he could have heard her play more, at least. But if she can’t capture the audience within the first measure, what’s the point? What is technique for, what is all the hard work for, if she can’t make _music?_

She’s still not good enough… a harsh fact that sinks in when Gabriel lets the other selected students finish their pieces, at least, and gives them decent advice instead of a slapdown. Hardening her resolve, Marinette mentally prepares for longer hours in the practice room.

—

When the master class ends, Marinette shoulders her case and trudges out of the performance hall, only to be greeted by the encouraging sight of rain streaking down the exterior windows. Great. She didn’t check the weather that morning, as usual, and is without an umbrella.

As the other students open their umbrellas one by one, exiting the building, Marinette pauses at the door, bracing herself to be soaked. At least she knows from past experience that her white hard-shell violin case is watertight, though she’d prefer not to test her luck with such precious cargo at stake.

No choice, though, unless she wants to be holed up in this building for an indefinite amount of time instead of using her time to whip her Bach Sonata No. 1 into shape.

Time for the NASA countdown. Five. Four. Three. Two…

“Oh! Fancy meeting you here, Macaron Girl.”

Marinette instantly recognizes the student in front of her, who’s caught sight of her while pausing to open his umbrella. What a coincidence to run into him again so soon.

“Hey, Adrien,” Marinette replies glumly, not in the mood to talk to anyone. Nonetheless, she feels obligated to be nice to him. He’s been generous enough with his time to run pieces with her before chamber orchestra rehearsal, and he’s even given her his number along with free advice. He’s been nothing but pleasant, and he doesn’t deserve her cranky treatment.

He must sense her mood, because he asks, “What happened?”

Marinette shrugs noncommittally, giving him a half-smile. “Not happy to see that it’s raining, but that’s the least of my problems.”

“Come on.” He motions for Marinette to join him under the umbrella. “I’ll walk you to wherever you need to go. If you want, you can tell me about it on the way.”

Marinette hesitates before accepting his invitation and stepping out under the umbrella. “Thanks… if you really don’t mind.”

“Why would I offer if I minded?” Adrien gives her a gentle smile accompanied by a wink. “So, where are you going?”

“The practice wing,” Marinette answers. “Is it on your way?”

“It wouldn’t matter, but yeah.”

“You’re way too nice… what’s the catch?” Marinette teases, a bit of snark seeping in due to her mood.

“No catch. Anything for a friend.”

Marinette does a double-take. She shouldn’t be surprised at his choice of words—he did announce their friend status when they exchanged numbers. But from what she’s seen, he seems popular. When he’s not at a piano, he’s always talking to someone. She’s spotted him at the cafeteria with different girls. She figures he’s generous with his kind words and they should be taken with a grain of salt… but is she special enough to count as a real friend, or… ?

“What? Did I say something wrong?” Adrien runs his free hand through his hair self-consciously.

“Nothing, just—yeah. We’re friends.” … Real smooth, Marinette.

“Of course we are,” Adrien confirms, like it’s an unshakeable truth.

Marinette starts to understand why people seem to gravitate to Adrien. Sometimes, making friends can feel like a game of give and take, but with Adrien, it doesn’t feel like she has to work for his favor. He gives it easily, freely. She relaxes a bit, finding comfort in the walk under the umbrella with him.

“So, what happened to get you so upset?” he ventures to ask.

“I had a master class with Gabriel Agreste,” Marinette sighs bitterly. She misses the way Adrien tenses and his eyes spark with surprise. “And I got to play four measures, tops? He made me start over five times. He said I didn’t have a story to tell… that there was no emotion.” The words haven’t lost their potency yet. Tears prick her eyes.

“What did you play?”

“Bach’s Sonata No. 1 in G Minor.”

Adrien blows out a puff of air dismissively, knowing exactly how Gabriel expects the piece to be played. “Baroque isn’t meant to be emotional and heavy. He’s judging based on his own preferred interpretation… it’s probably not even what Bach wanted.”

“Still, I don’t want to sound boring.” This time, the dam breaks, and angry tears start streaming down Marinette’s cheeks. She isn’t angry with Gabriel Agreste—she’s frustrated and disgusted with herself. She feels dry and utterly unremarkable. “I just don’t know what to do anymore. Sometimes I feel like I should just give up. Why make all the effort if what I play isn’t… inspiring, or touching, or… anything special? It’s always the same feedback. I’m sick of feeling like a robot.”

“Hey, hey.” Adrien stops walking and turns to face her squarely, looking deep into her eyes. “Don’t say that. I know how you play. You have a clean, pure sound that most violinists would envy. It’s a _beautiful_ sound, and I’m one hundred percent sure Gabriel was just being a condescending prick when he said all that. I’m sure there was nothing wrong with the way you played the piece.”

“It could’ve been better,” Marinette acknowledges.

“Well, okay, so you’re still growing as a musician. But that’s totally fine! I already know your technique is great, but learning how to speak through your instrument? That’s the hard part. That’s a process, and you’re still in the middle of it. Don’t be so hard on yourself!”

Marinette nods. She knows this already, she just doesn’t know how to go about that process. It feels like she’s treading water and getting nowhere. Stagnant.

Almost as if he’s reading her thoughts, Adrien continues, “There’s no set formula to master expression. It’s not like there’s a set of études you can practice and magically be able to do it. You already know the language, now it’s all about letting loose and figuring out _what_ you want to say. The _how_ will come naturally.”

“Okay… I guess you’re right,” Marinette mumbles, swiping at her eyes, embarrassed about letting her defenses down. She’s usually not one to cry so easily, but something about Adrien being so sincerely focused on making her feel better has unlocked the side of her she normally wouldn’t show. “I know I just need to work harder. I don’t intend to give up—I’m just frustrated. Sorry for being a baby.”

Adrien’s face softens into a smile, and he moves the umbrella to his other hand to give Marinette’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze. Her shoulder keeps tingling even after he lets go. “Hey, you know why your violin has a chin rest?”

“Why?” Marinette asks tentatively, feeling a bad joke coming around the corner.

“So you can keep your _chin up._ ”

Marinette smashes her face into her palm. “You’re lucky your piano playing is better than your sense of humor.”

Adrien snickers and shoots again. “You know, I respect you violinists. Piano is easy keysey in comparison. You know why?”

This, too, is clearly a setup for a lame punchline. Marinette gives him a deadpan look and a flat, “Why?”

“You guys have to deal with intonation… but for us, the pitches are all black and white.” Adrien grins, basking in Marinette’s exasperation.

“..... I misjudged you,” Marinette finally utters. “I thought you were a cool guy, but turns out you’re a huge dork with a lame sense of humor.” She flashes him a cheeky smile to show she‘s only teasing.

“Well, thanks, I’ll take that as a compliment.” Adrien nudges her shoulder with his. She feels warm despite the chilly weather.

He puts the banter behind them, continuing in a serious tone, “Anyway, Gabriel’s just a man who likes to intimidate people, okay? Prove him wrong. You _do_ have a story to tell, and there’s nothing wrong with needing some time to find it first.”

“Thanks, Adrien,” Marinette answers, suddenly aware of her heart beating faster than usual. They’ve stopped in front of the building that houses the practice wing. “And thank you for walking with me. I’d be soaked otherwise.”

“Anything for a friend, Marinette,” Adrien repeats with a wink, bringing a full-blown flush to Marinette’s cheeks.

“See you around.” With a wave, she spins on her heel and walks into the building, feeling significantly lighter than she did when she first left the performance hall.

By the time she finds an empty practice room and gets settled in, there are two text messages waiting for her.

 **Adrien** : hey new friend, just realized i could’ve been texting you all along. add “slow” to my list of shortcomings.

The second message is a gif of a cartoon cat playing the violin, with the words “CHIN UP! YOU’RE AWESOME!” inserted meme-style across the bottom.

Marinette giggles and texts him back.

 **Marinette** : You really are a sweetie pie-anist.

It’s the worst pun she’s ever made, but she bets it’ll make him smile.

 **Adrien** : XD see, i knew you loved my jokes, admit it. your sense of humor is just as lame as mine.

 **Marinette** : Maybe I’m just lowering myself to your level to get a laugh out of you. ;)

 **Adrien** : well, it worked. ^_^ i’m glad we’re friends.

Marinette grins a goofy grin at her phone. It’s fun talking to him, teasing him. And he has made her feel loads better.

 **Marinette** : The fact that you found that funny just goes to show how much of a dork you are.

She hesitates before sending a follow-up text.

 **Marinette** : Me too, by the way.  
**Marinette** : … I’m glad we’re friends, that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nope, he doesn't tell her Gabriel is his father. :P
> 
> Many people write Adrien as someone who texts with proper grammar, punctuation, and capitalization. But, typing in lowercase seemed more suitable for Adrien's personality in this AU. He lets more of his Chat Noir personality show in day-to-day life here.
> 
> What did you think of this chapter? Things you liked? Didn't like?
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I never went to music school, especially not in Europe, but I do have quite a few friends and acquaintances who went to Juilliard and other music schools, so I've been able to gain many insights into how things are through conversations, observations, and random tidbits they share. However, I'm still just essentially writing about this second-hand and extrapolating based on my own limited musical experiences. So, the depictions of music school that I write might be more in line with Juilliard / American teaching rather than what's normal in France, since I have no way of gleaning insider info about French music schools. If anyone has experience with music school, especially in Europe/France, and notices something totally off that should be corrected or wants to provide me with some helpful insight, please don't hold back... I would very much appreciate that! Same goes if I say anything about music in general that is totally wrong or misguided. Obviously, this is fanfiction and just for fun, but I still don't want to be wildly inaccurate. :P 
> 
> Music:
> 
> [Bach's Sonata No. 1 in G Minor](https://youtu.be/S_kAt9Kfd2g) \- A heavier, more emotional interpretation maybe like what Gabriel would have liked to hear.
> 
> [The same sonata](https://youtu.be/H2e3eoOXeNs) ... played in a lighter, more matter-of-fact way probably more true to Baroque style. Marinette played it closer to this style. Don’t ask me why it’s actually in F# minor. Maybe the audio was transposed by the uploader to avoid copyright infringement detection.


	3. Warm Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien returns from a trip and gives Marinette a present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I considered making this part of [Broken Fugue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21782932/chapters/51976702) proper, since it follows shortly after the first chapter, but it's plotless fluff, so it ended up here. Right after Nathaniel's concert, Adrien goes abroad for a week or so for performances in Sydney, and now he's back. It's mid-December. The present is not a Christmas present. (FYI, I don't celebrate Christmas or any standard holidays, so I'm not going to mention or focus on them in any of my stories.)
> 
> By the way, practice room scenes are going to become a norm. Better get used to it now. ^^
> 
> I hope you like it!

**Adrien** : tadaimaaa! :3

The text comes in while Marinette is practicing, not surprisingly.

She sets down her violin and immediately swipes the phone off the music stand to respond. He’s supposed to be flying in from Sydney and she’s been waiting to hear from him all day.

 **Marinette** : What does that mean??

 **Adrien** : i’m baaaaaaaaack! ^___^ the appropriate response would be okaeri ^_-

 **Marinette:** Yay! Welcome back!! :D :D  
**Marinette** : … Okaeri? Is that Japanese?

 **Adrien** : yup… i’m guessing you don’t watch anime

Marinette guesses he's just watched a lot of it on the plane.

 **Marinette** : You would be right. :P Of course you’d learn Japanese from anime. Congratulations on fulfilling the dork stereotype.

 **Adrien** : i’m very grateful to anime-sensei  
**Adrien** : allow me to introduce you sometime

Marinette snorts.

 **Marinette** : No thanks.

 **Adrien** : there’s one i bet you’d like!  
**Adrien** : it’s important for your musical education

 **Marinette** : Hmm… we’ll see about that.

 **Adrien** : so you’re agreeing to watch it with me??

 **Marinette** : Maaaaybe.

 **Adrien** : i’ll accept that.  
**Adrien** : hey, are you in the practice wing?

 **Marinette** : How did you guess?

 **Adrien** : can you play a G major scale? :3

 **Marinette** : …

An odd request, but she can guess what he’s up to. Raising an eyebrow, she sets down her phone and exchanges it for her instrument to do as requested.

She hasn’t even begun the descent before the door bursts open to reveal a very chipper Adrien in a forest green cashmere v-neck sweater, white polo peeping out the collar, and light grey slacks, looking like he’s walked out of a Ralph Lauren ad. “Put that down and bring it in,” he demands, beckoning her for a hug.

Giggling at his antics, Marinette frees her hands and lunges into Adrien’s arms with an enthusiastic, “Welcome hooome!”

His delighted hum rumbles through her, making the hug feel even warmer. There’s something unfamiliar about his scent. It’s a travel smell.

“When did you get back?”

“Just now,” he murmurs. “I thought I’d have an eighty-to-twenty chance of finding you here, so I dropped off my stuff and came right away to surprise you.”

“Well, I’m pleasantly surprised.” Marinette relaxes her hold to step back and look him over. His cheeks and the tip of his nose are pink, and his hair is windswept, reminding Marinette how cold the weather is these days. The practice room is a pleasant cocoon. “I missed your pretty face.”

“Missed yours.” The color on his face deepens with the words, and he clears his throat, looking away and shifting his weight awkwardly.

Seeing him react that way makes Marinette blush, too. It’s harder to pass it off as a joke now… and suddenly, the practice room is uncomfortably warm.

He regains his composure and meets her eyes again with a grin. “Guess what?”

“What?” She pretends she didn’t notice the mood change, and the awkward moment passes easily.

“I made you something!” He seems very excited about this.

“Oh?” Marinette’s eyebrows shoot up. She isn’t aware he has any crafty talents. Or has he tried his hand at baking? “What did you make?”

With a flourish, he removes a little parcel from his messenger bag, wrapped in baby blue paper. “Open it!”

She slides a finger under the tape, splitting it in half and peeling open the wrapping paper flawlessly.

“So you’re one of those OCD people who re-wraps their presents,” Adrien observes with amusement.

“I am not OCD, and I don’t plan on rewrapping it,” Marinette huffs. “I just don’t like wasting pretty paper.”

“—Don’t judge, okay? It was my first attempt at knitting,” Adrien hurriedly warns as she removes two rectangles knit in pearlesque silver yarn and turns them over in her hands, trying to figure out what exactly she’s holding. “It was a long flight, and there was only so much I could sleep, so I figured I’d put my time to good use. I literally just watched a YouTube video and learned on the plane. It only took me the first hour or so to figure it out. I hope they fit… I had to guess what size your hands are.”

He’s babbling to distract her from what has started feeling like a shoddy and unworthy gift as he awaits her verdict.

She quickly realizes they’re tubes, and there’s a hole in each one, a couple centimeters long. Thumb holes. “Wrist warmers?”

“Yup!” Adrien seems very pleased that she’s managed to identify his creations. “Since it’s only going to get colder, and if you insist on wearing that ridiculous coat of yours, I have to do _something_ to keep you warm. Plus, you’re always complaining about how cold the orchestra room is… you’ll be able to keep these on while playing!”

The gesture is so thoughtful and sweet that Marinette can’t help but giggle, despite the fact that he’s just insulted her favorite coat again. “You think the coat is cute,” she insists absent-mindedly, closely inspecting his stitch-work.

They’re not all the same size, and there are a few random holes she could probably fit her pinky into. She presses her lips together, reminding herself it wouldn’t be nice to laugh. It’s just so cute.

“I said don’t judge!” he reiterates, increasingly worried about her opinion. “... So? Are they acceptable? Would you wear them?”

Marinette considers withholding her judgment a little longer just to tease him, but the look on his face is so vulnerable that upon seeing it, she immediately breathes, “I love them! Thank you so much!” and pulls down his neck to plant a quick peck on his cheek.

She slips the knit tubes over her hands, even though she is far from cold, especially after kissing Adrien’s cheek. It felt natural at the time, but as seconds tick by, she starts to wonder if she was too forward. Her palms start to feel humid under the thick layer of yarn. It doesn’t matter—she wants him to feel appreciated.

Displaying her hands proudly, she sees his hand drop from his cheek and realizes he was touching the spot where she kissed him. Heat floods her face again as she wonders what he’s thinking. He doesn’t look at all bothered by the kiss. Not in a bad way, anyway.

As much as she loves the gift, she honestly can’t wait to take the wrist warmers off because it is _far_ too hot in this room.

“I’m glad you don’t hate them,” Adrien laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks for overlooking my shortcomings.”

“You did a great job with the holes,” Marinette compliments earnestly. “Holes are difficult.”

“Thank you,” he preens. “What about the rest?”

“The rest looks great, too.” Marinette thinks about the holes he _didn’t_ mean to make and can’t hold back her laugh this time.

“I know you don’t mean it, but I’ll accept your praise.” Adrien sticks out his tongue and gives her a playfully smug look. “Anyway, I’m exhausted, and it’s like two a.m. in Sydney, so… I’m gonna go back to my apartment and take a nap for a bit. I’ll probably be back here later to practice.” He rolls his eyes. “Just wanted to pass by and see my favorite human first.”

“I’m your favorite human now?” Marinette raises her eyebrow, feeling a little flutter in her chest.

“But of course, Princess,” he says, in an overly-exaggerated way that she can’t take seriously.

She tries not to feel disappointed. He’s always saying things like this, but she knows he’s smooth with the girls, and is pretty sure these lines come as easily as breathing to him. No reason to believe she’s special to him.

The way he gets flustered sometimes makes her think otherwise, though…

And for whom else has he sacrificed his precious time to make wrist warmers? She shifts her fingers, rubbing against the soft yarn. The fluttery feeling is back.

He’s picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

“Enjoy your nap,” she bids him, leaning against the doorway as he takes his leave.

“I’ll text you when I’m on my way back, in case you’re still here.”

“I might leave soon, but… text me when you’re hungry? We could grab food.”

“Sounds like a plan, Princess.”

Once he leaves, she removes the wrist warmers and places them atop the folded paper on the piano cover, gazing at them adoringly. They’ll be perfect for orchestra, and more importantly, _Adrien_ made them. They’re now her favorite possession… besides her violin, a custom-ordered contemporary Guarneri copy that she still hasn’t paid off.

A few minutes pass before she can get into the right headspace to resume practicing, but when she does, the lively trills and runs of Mozart’s third concerto sing like never before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three guesses as to which anime Adrien is talking about.
> 
> Speaking of which, while I was writing the [pilot drabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20121214/chapters/47666317) for this AU, people started mentioning Your Lie in April / Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso. I hadn't heard about or seen it at the time, but now I've seen the first seven episodes or so, and it's so good! I didn't intend for this series to have so many similarities to the KimiUso plotline. There are _some_ similarities, like the main characters playing piano and violin, and illness / Adrien's mother playing a part in defining his present-day mindset, but that's pretty much as far as it goes. This series wasn't meant to be a KimiUso crossover, and it's going to have a happy ending.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like this fluffy scene. :P Let me know if any thoughts or questions you have!
> 
> In case you can't tell, I'm trying to portray that Marinette and Adrien have an easy banter and relatively tactile relationship, but there are still a lot of things they don't know about one another yet. Most of their interactions early in their relationship are practice sessions, so they haven't swapped many personal facts, it's mostly just talking about music and joking. More on that later, but anyway. I'm curious if anyone noticed.
> 
> [Mozart's Violin Concerto No. 3](https://youtu.be/i-WrSji-OEw)


	4. Fame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette finds out Gabriel is Adrien's father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! So, I'm sort of on a roll with this AU. -_-; Also, even though this is a more 'plot-wise important' chapter, it still goes in here because it happened before the first chapter of Broken Fugue, and it is still background to the main plotline. That's the thing about AUs. There's a lot of background catching-up to do. I thought it was an important character study, though.
> 
> This happens in early November, a little more than a month after Marinette's last master class with Gabriel, but before Nathaniel’s concert and Adrien’s trip to Sydney.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Adrien swings open the door of the café across the street from the campus entrance, and the rich fragrance of coffee beans hits his nostrils. Soft lo-fi hip hop beats and the low murmur of patrons rounds out the comfortable atmosphere. 

Marinette waves at him from the line, her hair in loose pigtail braids, white violin case in its usual spot on her back like a stylish turtle shell.

Adrien waves back before making his way over to the bay window seat that he knows is her favorite. It’s a long, pillowed bench flanked with teal throw pillows. There’s no table, which is why the seat usually isn’t taken despite how cozy it is, but they don’t need one, anyway.

When he sits down, he realizes Marinette is trying to get his attention. She waves her hand at the menu and mimes a comical shrug, mouthing, ‘Want anything?’

He shakes his head, smiling fondly.

They’ve started meeting up around this time on Wednesdays—both of them get out of their last class around the same time, so they’ve made a custom of grabbing drinks before heading to the practice wing together. Sometimes they sit and talk for a bit before relocating.

When Marinette joins him, she’s holding two cups, and hands him one. “You need to hydrate, and tea is good for you.”

“Yes, Mamarinette. Thanks.”

Marinette rolls her eyes at the pun and groans as she flops down onto the window seat, dropping a sugar packet and a stack of napkins on the cushion between her and Adrien. “Guess who ripped me to shreds today?”

Adrien tastes his drink to see what it is. Unsweetened Earl Grey. His heart skips a beat at the thought that she’s been paying attention to his preferences. “Who?”

“Gabriel Agreste, again… I can’t decide if I’m the luckiest girl in the world, or the unluckiest.”

Adrien blinks and pulls an uneasy, forced smile. He didn’t know his father was in town. “Another master class? Did it go better this time?”

“Yeah, it was just… a little depressing. I got through the whole first movement of [Beethoven’s ‘Spring’ Sonata](https://youtu.be/DHP9fQvTG7I), but he kept stopping me to grill me about the purpose of each phrase and tell me how dismally boring my interpretation is.” Marinette glumly uncaps her green tea latte, dumps the packet of sugar into it, and gives it a stir. “I mean, don’t get me wrong… his corrections were helpful. It just didn’t feel good to be reminded of how much I suck.”

“You don’t suck!” Adrien assures her. “My father’s just like that. I’m sorry you had to suffer from his lack of tact.”

“Wait—your _father?!”_

… Ooooops. Adrien realizes belatedly that she doesn’t know Gabriel is his father. The timing didn’t seem right to mention it after her last master class with him, and Adrien’s surname hasn’t ever come up. Everyone at school just calls him ‘Adrien.’ Why would she know?

In the back of his mind, he sort of _thought_ she knew, but it makes sense that she doesn’t.

“Oh.” Adrien rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “Guess I forgot to tell you.”

“You _forgot_ to tell me that you’re the son of The Legendary Gabriel Agreste, my violin idol?!” Marinette gapes, flabbergasted. “What else don’t I know about you?”

The words hit Adrien in the gut. She unconsciously makes a good point—he isn’t eager to volunteer personal information. He’d rather not be known as the son of a famous violinist and his pianist wife, whose tragic death and posthumously released album launched her into her own spotlight of fame. He doesn’t want to be known as the child prodigy who won a competition geared toward university students at the age of nine.

He definitely doesn’t want Marinette to know that he’s supposed to be working his butt off to achieve international ‘success’ before a potential time bomb in his genes decides to go off. He doesn’t want her to know that underneath all the jokes and charm is an insecure, paranoid boy with major trust issues, whose fear rendered both arms literally paralyzed for a week when he was thirteen, and threatened to shut him down again during his first year in university. So, he'd rather not talk about his past, his parents, or anything personal really. He'd rather learn more about Marinette.

Some day, when he's ready, he'll tell her about the secret that he does hold dear—the jazz club he frequents under the guise of a mask—and with it, the unpleasant truth of why he has to wear a mask in the first place.

For now, what she knows about him is enough. He’s a fellow student whose weakest subject is history, a tea-drinking pianist, a playful guy who likes dad-jokes and teasing, and her devoted friend. He shrugs. “You know everything that matters.”

Marinette slaps him on the shoulder. “You think it doesn’t matter that I’ve been venting to you about your own _father_ this whole time and you didn’t even tell me?!”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Adrien gives her repentant puppy-dog eyes. “I’m sorry?”

“I thought we were friends.” Marinette pretends to be hurt. Adrien suspects it isn’t just an act—she actually _is_ hurt. She isn’t paying attention to her drink, which is still uncapped and starting to tilt dangerously, about to spill.

“Careful!” Adrien cries, righting her hand. Their fingers overlap—he blushes.

“Thanks.” Marinette looks a little pink, too, as she replaces the cap and takes a sip. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She isn’t meeting his eyes now, and Adrien’s insides twist with shame.

“I didn’t mean to _not tell_ you.” He bites his lip. “I mean, I thought you knew. It’s not a big deal, really.”

Marinette looks up. Her brow is furrowed, and she still looks upset, but her expression softens after a few beats. “You’re right,” she concedes, trying to be fair even though the bitter feeling remains that he lied and made a fool of her. She knows he wouldn’t deceive her with ill intent, so he must have his reasons for not being forthcoming. “It’s not a big deal. It’s fine.”

“You haven’t told me about _your_ parents,” Adrien points out.

“I guess not. But they’re not famous, and it’s not like we’ve been talking about them. I haven’t hidden anything from you. I’d tell you all about them in a heartbeat if the topic ever came up.”

“Marinette…” Adrien uses a soothing tone, starting to realize how ticked off Marinette is about his lie of omission. “I haven’t been hiding it from you on purpose. I mean it.”

“Okay.” Her tone is clipped, and she stands up. “Ready to head over?”

“Yeah…”

Marinette trails slightly behind Adrien the whole way over to the practice wing. He keeps slowing down so she can catch up, but she doesn’t, so he gives up. He’s beginning to panic, afraid something has changed irrevocably between them. What if she doesn't trust him anymore? What if she starts treating him differently now that she knows he's Gabriel Agreste's son? He wishes he knew what she was thinking.

When they get there, they check the digital display that shows which rooms are open. “First floor’s full, but 203’s open… you want it?” Adrien points at the universally-preferred room near the stairwell, offering it as a peace token.

“Nah… I’ll take 215. The piano in 203 is more in tune.”

He glances over at her, and she gives him a tentative smile. Looks like she’s the one offering the peace token now.

“Sorry,” she murmurs. “I shouldn’t have gotten upset. It’s my fault for being utterly blind and missing the fact that my favorite violinist has a pianist son named Adrien… I could have easily connected the dots.”

He’s so relieved about her clear attempt to ease the tension between them, he pulls her into a hug. “It’s no one’s fault, silly. Definitely not yours, anyway. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything last time we talked about him.”

Guilt gnaws at him. This was a misunderstanding, but he’s fully accountable for the other secrets he’s intentionally keeping from her. For now, it’s easy to justify his reticence with the fact that their friendship is still young and, naturally, there are things that she doesn’t need to know right away.

Yet, he realizes that she isn’t the type of person who’s satisfied with being a surface-level acquaintance, and he won’t be able to hold her off for long if he wants to keep her as a friend. He’s already in way deeper with her than he would normally allow himself.

Someday, he’ll tell her his secrets, one by one, painfully lay himself bare to her. If she likes him now, she probably won’t like him anymore once she finds out how much baggage is attached to him.

Before starting warm-ups, Adrien texts his father.

 **Adrien:** Hello, Father. I heard you held a master class at school today. I didn’t know you were in town…

He stares at the screen for a while, but there’s no response, so he sets it aside and spreads his fingers over the black and white keys.

—

Marinette texts him after an hour or so. He’s still at the piano, working out Liszt's [Feux Follets](https://youtu.be/LsggmCF1Cys).

 **Marinette:** OMG I didn’t know you were so famous!  
 **Marinette:** This whole time I’ve been talking to a freaking celebrity and I didn’t even know it!

The last text is accompanied by the emoji inspired by Munch’s ‘The Scream.’

Adrien sighs heavily and picks up his phone to do damage control, a feeling of dread sitting heavy on his chest. This is why he doesn't talk about his father. The last thing he wants is an ostinato of “OMG I'm talking to a celebrity” running through Marinette's mind while they're hanging out.

 **Adrien:** i am not a celebrity  
 **Adrien:** and if i’m anything close to famous it’s only because of my father  
 **Adrien:** please stop googling me

 **Marinette:** You won Amadeus when you were NINE?!? OMG

Adrien stands up, bursts out of the room, and runs down the hall to 215.

Marinette screams in surprise when he opens the door.

“Oh my God, you scared me!” she gasps. “Knock next time!” Her violin is on top of the piano, her phone in her hands.

“No more googling,” Adrien demands, making a swipe at her phone, which she holds out of reach. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know about me. Okay? That Adrien—” he points at the phone— “is not me.”

Marinette sets the phone on top of the piano. “… Okay. Sorry. I’ll stop.”

“Thank you. So… Anything you want to know? Shoot.” He holds out his arms at his sides, palms up in a gesture of submission.

Now that he’s in front of her again, Marinette stops feeling intimidated. She’s reminded of how much she enjoys their conversations and treasures their budding friendship. She feels guilty searching for information about him online—it feels like cheating, like reading the last page of a novel before she gets there.

“Nothing,” Marinette answers, weaving her fingers together and hooking one foot behind the other ankle, like a schoolgirl caught doing something wrong. “—I-I mean, everything, but I’d rather find out naturally,” she amends.

 _Everything?_ Adrien flushes and runs his fingers through his hair, trying not to read into that word. “Uh… okay. Um. Now that that’s settled, I guess I’ll let you get back to practicing.” He glances at her violin on the piano cover and smirks. “… Or… _start_ practicing?”

“I _was_ practicing!” Marinette balls her fists indignantly, lips pouting but eyes laughing. “I was just taking a break!”

“Sure, Princess.” Adrien winks. “Happy practicing.”

“Get out of here!” Marinette shoves him out the door.

Adrien chuckles to himself as he saunters back to his own room. That's his Marinette. Maybe they’ll be fine.

—

Gabriel’s response finally chimes in around nine p.m. when Adrien disembarks the subway and begins the short walk to his apartment… which is actually a pleasant surprise, since Adrien has waited days for a response before.

The message itself is not so pleasant.

 **Gabriel:** Yes. I’m flying out again in the morning, so I didn’t think it was necessary to inform you, since we wouldn’t have had time to meet.

Adrien fights the urge to hurl his phone against the pavement. Has Gabriel forgotten that Adrien attends Françoise Dupont? Regardless of where he was on campus at the time, it wouldn’t have taken Adrien more than ten minutes to get to where Gabriel was. He pockets his phone, too irritated to reply right away.

Five minutes later, he’s home and his head has cooled enough to respond to his father’s message.

 **Adrien:** Okay. Let me know next time you’ll be in Paris, so I can come say hello. Travel safely!

There. Pleasant and polite. Adrien is proud of his self-restraint.

For once, Gabriel’s response is immediate.

 **Gabriel:** We’ll see. Did Nathalie tell you about Sydney next month?  
 **Gabriel:** Give her a call, if not.

 _Sydney next month._ Great. Probably more plans his father has neglected to tell him about. And of course, he leaves the task of filling Adrien in to _Nathalie_ instead of doing it himself.

Adrien growls under his breath, tossing the phone on the couch. If Gabriel doesn’t mind making him wait for a response, he can have a taste of his own medicine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think about this chapter?
> 
> In the grand scheme of things, Marinette finding out that Gabriel is Adrien's father is not really that important of a plot point, but I thought it was a good 'symptom' to use to bring out some nuances in Adrien's character and his relationship with Marinette. I hope this chapter was insightful without being too heavy.
> 
> Also, anyone who's read the [Solfège drabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20121214/chapters/47666317) might recognize the snippet of dialogue from [Chapter Nine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20121214/chapters/47718388). Some of the scenes from the drabbles I'm planning on expanding, and I'm going to TRY to keep the dialogue in tact. It'll be a fun challenge, since I didn't think too much about the timeline when I was writing the drabbles.
> 
> Cheers!
> 
> \--
> 
> [Beethoven's 'Spring' Sonata](https://youtu.be/DHP9fQvTG7I)  
> [Liszt's Feux Follets](https://youtu.be/LsggmCF1Cys)


End file.
